


Hera and Zeus and Visitation Rights

by Cinnamonbookworm



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Marriage Proposal, Memory Loss, and laurel and felicity make him suffer for it, in which oliver says something and doesn't remember, lots of fluff, season 4 speculation, some season 4 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 10:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4432898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamonbookworm/pseuds/Cinnamonbookworm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“You have that look on your face again.”</i><br/><i>“What look?” Felicity asks, playing innocent.</i><br/><i>“The Oliver-did-something-stupid-again look.”</i><br/><i>They have a staring contest for a few minutes as Laurel tries to coax it out of her before Felicity gives in. “He said we should get married, for </i>hospital visitation clearance.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hera and Zeus and Visitation Rights

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by a dream and... yeah that's basically it. also, felicity is totally a giant mythology nerd let's not even try to deny this

“Marry me.”

It’s unexpected, when he asks her. Although, it’s not really asking because it’s a mumble in a silent, breathless foundry where the only sound is the humming of Felicity’s computers. Oh, and the gasp. Yeah, her gasp kind of fills that silent void after.

“Oliver…” She replies, because he’s not really in any condition to be asking, not with him bleeding out over the med table like this and her desperately trying to get him out of his new Green Arrow suit before they ship him over to the hospital. Not that it’s really as hard as getting him out of his other one because this one is sleeveless and there’s a lot more armor and a lot less trying to squeeze his bulging biceps out of tight leather. “What…What are you talking about?”

“Visitation rights.” He murmurs, eyes fluttering halfway between open and closed. “They won’t let you see me like this. We’re not family.”

And it’s not like he’d really gotten her hopes up with his half-awake proposal, but the thought that the only reason he would be asking is for hospital visitation rights kind of stings. Felicity knows she can’t hold it against him now though; the loss of blood is obviously messing with his head, and it’s not like he _actually_ wants to marry her, right?

To be fair, they haven’t talked about this. They’d talked about literally anything but this. Because talking about marriage meant talking about Nyssa which meant talking about Al Sahim and Malcolm Merlyn and that entire League of Assassins mess and every time they did that it ended up badly. By that, she corrects herself, she means every time they did that she ended up walking out because she “needed some air.”

“Hospital’s not that easy to hack.” She reminds him with a quick squeeze of his hand and a sad attempt at a comforting smile, because her mind is _definitely_ elsewhere at the moment. Elsewhere most likely being the bouquet she’d caught and Dig and Lyla’s wedding and _elsewhere_ being whether or not he actually wants to marry her because she might actually want to marry _him_ (although, she’s never really thought about it before this point, because the whole _I want to be with you_ thing kind of sealed the deal for them and marriage probably isn’t really necessary at this point in the _forever_ but still…) and he’s honestly just made this entire thing ten times more confusing for her.

Except then his eyes close and he doesn’t say anything more, and she can still feel his heartbeat under her fingertips as she pries the leather off of him and gets him into some sweats but she’s still worried. And, as Laurel drives them to the hospital, the silence is suffocating until the other woman says something.

“What’d he say?”

It’s like she _knows._ Laurel always knows. Has known from the start if their late-night conversations are anything to be taken as law. Says she knows the look when Oliver does something stupid, that she’d seen it in her eyes a million times before what seems like a lifetime ago.

Even so, Felicity just stares at her, still a little shaken from Oliver’s question earlier. They’re at a stop light so Laurel turns back to her, brushing her toffee-colored hair over the head of her seat to give Felicity a reprimanding look and a raised eyebrow. Also that signature not-quite-smirk of her lips, still painted the dark maroon from Black-Canarying. “You have that look on your face again.”

“What look?” Felicity asks, playing innocent.

“The Oliver-did-something-stupid-again look.”

They have a staring contest for a few minutes as Laurel tries to coax it out of her before Felicity gives in. “He said we should get married, for _hospital visitation clearance._ ”

The light turns green so Laurel turns away before Felicity can see her face but it’s clear the empathetic distaste is there. Moments like this, when they talk about the times Oliver has actually screwed up, Felicity knows all Laurel is thinking about is playboy Ollie Queen, who would tell her he loved her drunk off his ass and then shy away when she gave him a key to her apartment. And they both know Oliver’s not the same person now, wasn’t the same person for years before he even met Felicity, but it obviously stirs something up inside the other woman. Some emotional scarring that hasn’t quite healed yet from when she was young and in love and willing to do anything for the future she’d had planned for them.

They’re quiet for a while until they pull up to the hospital, and then, finally, Laurel turns around again, obviously having worked through whatever flashbacks she’d needed to enough to give some advice to her friend. “Well, we’re going to give him hell for it, aren’t we?”

It’s… not the response  Felicity was expecting.

But they do. Laurel stays the entire time until they’re both allowed inside – Felicity purposefully not hacking her way into clearance out of a small amount of spite, and Oliver’s awake, the blood having been stopped and the excuse having been given to the doctor, although, at this point the list of people who _don’t_ know that Oliver Queen is the Green Arrow is quickly shrinking, especially with the upcoming election and Oliver’s Campaign Manager, Dennis, having figured it out within the span of a few days and then coming to the conclusion it might actually be better for the campaign after all. The doctor does not look convinced that this was a motorcycle accident. Maybe Felicity will have Dennis give him a call.

And, when Oliver wakes up, he may find Felicity’s hand in his but he also finds Laurel Lance standing over his bed with her arms crossed, in full District Attorney mode. But, by the look on his face, he doesn’t remember. _He doesn’t remember._

Felicity gives Laurel a quick look to abort the mission, but Laurel probably still has a bit of anger left in behalf of her younger self, so it looks like she’s not about to let Oliver get away with doing the same to Felicity, _especially_ in the wake that he doesn’t remember.

Oliver stares back.

If Felicity wasn’t in on the exact relationship between the three of them in this room, was just an outsider, perhaps the nurse currently pretending not to spy on what is going on in Oliver Queen’s hospital room, she would think Laurel and Oliver were the married couple by the exchange going on between their eyes. In a way, Felicity thinks, they do remind her of a rendition of Zeus and Hera she’d read somewhere; some modern universe in which Zeus is the CEO of some company and Hera is his slightly disgruntled wife. It was probably a poem.

The analogy would make sense, if the two of them weren’t honestly more like Apollo and Athena, but she’s getting ahead of herself.

“Okay.” Oliver finally starts, hesitantly. “I give up. What did I do?”

Felicity gives him a pointed look.

“I mean, besides the obvious.”

Laurel suddenly loses the lawyer look and instead sighs a little, putting on the face she sometimes gets when she talks to Cisco on the phone and sitting down on the bed next to Oliver. “Ollie,” she starts, and both Felicity and Oliver immediately wince, because, however much she might’ve used it a few years ago, the name has been slightly shredded from her vocabulary now that there is a noticeable difference between him and _Ollie_ , except for a few occasions, like this one. “Remember when we were in our sophomore year of college, and you’d just dropped out of Princeton, and you came to my school and got drunk off your ass and passed out in the garbage can outside my dorm because I wouldn’t let you stay the night in my room?”

Her tone is soft and reminiscing, but the implications are all there, and, while Oliver may be confused – because he obviously didn’t get drunk and pass out in a trash can, but Laurel’s tone has him worried (as it should) anyway – they both get that she’s upset about something.

He looks to Felicity. But she’s upset about the _something_ too and frankly, her boyfriend can take a little beating from Laurel for this. She’s not really in the mood to bring it up herself.

“Not really…?” Oliver responds, and Felicity knows he doesn’t like to think a lot about his pre-island days, especially the way he’d treated Laurel back then.

Laurel sighs. “At least tell me you remember how you told me, in a drunken burst of rare Shakespearean romance and told me we were going to run away together, go to your family’s chalet in Paris, because, I believe your exact words were _who the fuck needs school?_. And then you proceeded to tell me you loved me, for the first time, by the way, and I was so awestruck that I almost let you stay the night except I wasn’t ready to be kicked out of school, so I kicked you out but you continued to yell Shakespeare up to my window until you passed out in the garbage can?”

Oliver’s forehead crinkles slightly, with a small frown at the memory of _Ollie Queen_ and his exploits. “Actually, now that you mention it…” But Laurel tramples over his words.

“And, you know, for a while here I’d thought that you would never do that again, you know, tell a girl you love her and not truly mean it. Except, then you did and I was disappointed in you, but I understood the circumstances. And _then,_ then I’d thought you’d never tell a girl something life-changing and then forget it, especially with _Felicity_ of all people now that you’re Mr. _It-Was-Red_. But honestly, I don’t know anymore!” Laurel throws her hands up in the air.

And now Oliver turns to look at Felicity again, and she manages to look at him with a soft amount of hurt because he might deserve it and then he frowns and opens his mouth to say “Felicity, I’m sorry that I don’t remember what I said, and I’m even sorry that I said it.”

She winces a little. “That might actually make it worse.” And she dives into an explanation because Laurel’s done enough dancing around the subject and _why the hell not?_ “You kind of… told me we should get married… for hospital visitation purposes.”

And it sounds ridiculous now – it _was_ ridiculous, because _he’s_ ridiculous when he’s bleeding out all over the bed table and refuses to take the pain medication because _it doesn’t hurt that much, Felicity._ Funnily enough, it seems he’s actually feeling more pain over the prospect of hurting her than over the circumstances that actually forced them to put him in the hospital in the first place.

Laurel nods her head at Felicity’s statement, as if she already didn’t scare the shit out of Oliver with that whole drunk college story and obviously he’s outnumbered in this situation, but Felicity knew he was going to end up apologizing anyway, because that’s the kind of attentive boyfriend he is and then…

“Fe-li-ci-ty.” He prompts, annunciating the syllables of her name like some sort of prayer – the way he always does. “I- You know I-” and it’s not the first time she’s put Oliver Queen at a loss for words, because really, what can he say in this situation?, but it’s the first time it’s been over something that might not be good for them and she’s trying to be okay with that.

“Laurel?” She asks of the other woman. “Could I talk to my boyfriend for a second.”

“Absolutely.” Laurel replies, with one last glance over her shoulder at said hospitalized boyfriend that says _don’t screw this up_ before strutting out of the room, low heels clicking as she does so.

“Oliver I-” she starts, right as he says “Felicity, you know…” and they both just end up smiling and looking at each other with dopey eyes and _god, she loves him_ and that’s what kind of got them into this mess in the first place.

“It’s just… we never talk about it. Like I am pretty sure I have talked about every single thing there is to talk about with you, but every time the conversation turns to marriage we just… avoid it. And I get that, because of the whole Nyssa thing and even the Laurel thing, but then you bring it up out of the blue and not even for a _reasonable_ reason and I was scared to ask you about it, even though I knew I shouldn’t be, but it’s just that whole you-getting-on-the-Queen’s-Gambit-after-Laurel-asked-you-to-move-in-with-her thing. Like the thing is, is marriage like a _thing_ for you, because I don’t know if it’s a _thing_ for me because I hadn’t really thought about it until you brought it up and now you don’t remember and I…”

He cuts her off with a kiss because _of course he does, the big sap._ She’s scared he’ll pull his IV out or something so she pulls away after a moment but by that time both of them are already kind of breathless and he’s looking at her like she’s his sun and stars and _see this is why they need to have a reasonable logical discussion about marriage._

“Yes.” He says.

“Yes as in _marriage is a thing for you?_ Or yes as in _yeah we’ve been avoiding this?_ Or yes as in _you actually remembered but didn’t want to say anything with Laurel here?_ ”

“Yes as inI love you and I don’t regret saying I wanted to marry you but I do regret the way I said it and yes marriage is a thing for me. But like only if you want it. What I’m trying to say is… Malcolm overruled the marriage and… But only when you’re ready and… Why are you smiling at me like that?”

“You’re talking in sentence fragments again.” And she knows he’s flashing back to when he first asked her out, they both are, and this is kind of feeling like him asking something else and that’s an entirely different can of worms entirely, because they only just confirmed marriage was even _on the table_ so she needs some clarification. “Just to be clear… you’re _not_ asking… right?”

“No, no, not here.” He assures her.

And it’s not _no not for a few more years._ It’s not _no, you misunderstood; I don’t actually want to marry you._ What it is is a declaration that he refuses to propose to her when he’s nearly bled out on them and is on the pain meds the doctor gave him and may or may not be outing his identity as the Green Arrow to the public soon. What it is is the idea that he might just pop up out of the blue with a ring from what’s left of the Queen Vault. It’s the idea that one night after an extreme amount of vigilante-ing he might pop the question in front of two of his ex-girlfriends and her ex-boyfriend (and possibly even Barry too, depending on when this hypothetical proposal happens) because he doesn’t give a shit and just loves her and she’d probably say yes. (Probably, depending on whether or not he was bleeding out in front of her again.) It’s asking her after Korean Tacos at 2 in the morning without a ring because they just can’t wait any longer and she ends up calling Iris and having a too-long discussion about hyphenating while Barry occasionally makes teasing “guys like us don’t get the girl” (because, _seriously Oliver?_ ) comments in the background.

And the thought of that, that makes her kiss him again and again and again until his heart starts beating a little too fast and one of the nurses comes by to check on him but Laurel walks in before and coughs a bit so they stop making out when the medical attention arrives.

And he’s not proposing right now. That he swears. But he buys her a blow pop ring on their way out. Just because.

And they do talk more, later that night, and a lot of it ends up with her pinned under him on the mattress and him whispering things about wedding dresses in her ear and it shouldn’t turn her on as much as it does. And later, in the afterglow, she thinks about college-age Laurel Lance (not during, of course, because that would be 7 different layers of awkward) shoving her boyfriend out of her dorm room because the idea of running away with him sounded preposterous and who also had to hear the words “I love you” from Oliver Queen without him actually meaning them. She kind of feels bad for that young girl and also kind of wonders if Laurel’s consistency to call Oliver out nowadays streams from them never  fighting when they actually _were_ dating.

Zeus and Hera indeed.

Still, Hera might not be quite so thrilled to plan the wedding of the woman who’s probably going to marry Zeus eventually.

Planning a wedding. Yeah, she’s _way_ too stressed with Queen Incorporated right now to take on the project of planning her own wedding. Maybe they’ll have a long engagement.


End file.
